DANCE OFF!
by AnaLockwood
Summary: Marinette and Adrien are quite alike. A balet dancer, and a hip-hop dancer. A girl under life-changing choices, a boy filled with family pressure. Both lovers of dance. But will they succeed in accomplish their dreams under all the problems they're given?


Chapter 1 (Marinette)

"Move yours feet faster, Marinette! No, not like that, more pointed!" my ballet teacher argues.

I point my feet more and more until the pain overwhelms me. I drop to my knees, completely tired. Ms. Rosa sighs at the sight of me and glares at me. I freely glare back.

"Next class," she hisses, "I want perfection. Or you're expelled."

I don't bother answering. I get up from my kneeled position and take my bag, before furiously walking away from her studio. I thought ballet would be fun. And it was, before my old teacher retired and Ms. Rosa replaced her. I open the changing room's door while sighing. I sit on one of the benches and take off my slippers. For a second, I'm horrified when I see blood coming out of my toes, but then I realize that it's normal. I've gotten used to the pain that ballet brings by now. I take of my ridiculous tutu and throw on an off-shoulder grey shirt. I take off my leggings and put on my jeans instead. Lastly, I smile in satisfaction as I put on my favorite sneakers, appreciating the comfort they give to my feet.

I look at my reflection in the mirror in front of me. My dark, blue hair is tied into low pigtails and my light blue eyes express clear annoyance. I frown at myself before taking off the elastics that were holding my pigtails in. My hair flies loose for the first time in what seems like forever. Feeling calmer now, I walk out of the changing room.

I'm about to leave before I hear hip-hop music coming from a room. Curious, I walk over to another studio. I take a look inside.

I see a guy, about my age, I think, wearing a sleeveless white shirt and black sweatpants. His eyes are closed and his messy, blond hair is glistening, like he's been sweating a lot. His body is moving to the rhythm of the music and I can't help but stare. He's smiling as he spins around, and then drop to the floor and pushing himself back up with one arm. His legs don't stop moving and he gets back up, moves his arms, and his legs harmoniously.

The music stops and he opens his eyes. I notice that they're green, gorgeously green.

"Whoever's out there, you can stop peeking and come in, you know," a voice yells and he turns around to spot me. That voice did not come from him because it was a female's voice but I'm still embarrassed. I blush and slowly come into the studio. My eyes meet the dancer's again and he flashes a bright smile towards me. My stare moves from him to a girl, who I'm assuming is his teacher. Her brown hair is tied into a high ponytail and she has an eyebrow piercing. She smiles at me sweetly, making me calm down a bit.

"I'm sorry for intruding, I was just curious.." I start to explain myself but the girl shushes me.

"That's not important. What's important is the answer to this question: how was his dance?"

I stay silent. What kind of question is that? My eyes travel back to the blond-haired boy without my permission and he looks a little shy. I blush.

"His dance?" I whisper, "Uhm.. Well it was out of this world."

The boy looks happy, almost giddy as the words escape my mouth. The girl nods in agreement.

"You've been doing well, Adrien," she smiles at him, "Class dismissed. Oh, and you?" she points at me and smirks. "Next time you want to watch Adrien dance, don't be shy and just come in."

I feel my face flush as the boy chuckles softly.

"Oh, no, Ma'am, it's not like that. My name is Marinette and I was having a class of ballet with my horrible teacher because I want to be a professional ballet dancer but the teacher is just awful, she's not my regular teacher because my old one retired, and anyways, I was mad, I changed and then I heard some catchy music and so I came here and saw him dance and I was completely captivated and yeah." I ramble without stopping myself. I cringe. I've said too much. "It's not like I know him or anything," my stupid mouth opens again.

"O…kay?" the lady giggles in response.

The blondie smiles at me before picking up his own bag and leaving the room. Which reminds me that I have to be back at my father's bakery in a few minutes.

"Uh, well it was nice meeting you, bye," I wave at the girl and run off.

Ugh! It's so embarrassing! Why was I standing there like a total idiot?

Still blushing, I run towards my father's bakery, cursing myself all the way.

Chapter 2 (Adrien)

"That girl was pretty cute, wasn't she," my instructor, Layla, asks me when I go back in the studio to say good-bye.

"I have no response to that," I laugh. I mean, she wasn't ugly. She definitely wasn't.

"So, did you tell your Dad?" she brutally changes the subject. My eyes widen and I stay silent. I look away from her intimidating stare. She takes my silence as a response and sighs, giving me a disappointed look.

"Adrien, you told me that you would tell him. Why won't you tell him that you take hip-hop classes?"

I don't know what to answer to that. My dad is this huge business man who expects me to take over his company after he retires. He makes me pose for his magazines, he makes me study things I do not want to study but I never really had the courage to stop him. I shuffle uncomfortably in my black t-shirt and white chemise. Layla sighed.

"So, I'm assuming that he doesn't know about your... Adventures at night?" she smiles weakly at me.

My silence confirms her thoughts. My adventures at night. When I go into the grand city of Paris and go into dance offs. I love those. It's the only time when I can be myself and just do what I love.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything, Adrien Agreste," Layla says, patting me on the shoulder, "But you know what my advice is."

I nod, before heading out of the studio. I walk mindlessly, letting my thought overwhelm me. Do I have enough courage to talk to my father? I mean, even before mom passed away, we barely talked. He's not the kindest person in the world. I run my hand over my crazy blond hair, a habit I picked up from my father. I look over to my right just to confirm where I am exactly and I see a bakery. I smile. I could eat a chocolate croissant.

I walk into the store and look at the decorations. I like the ambiance, it's calming. I look over to all the cakes and the breads in the vitrines. My stomach starts to grumble.

"Welcome to Bakery Dupain- Oh! Adrien?" a voice calls out. I turn to the speaker and I see a blue-haired girl with an adorable apron and a chef's hat, carrying a tray of croissants that look delicious. She's not wearing any makeup and she's smiling brightly at me.

"Marinette?" I feel a small smile on my face. She's cute, just as Layla said.

"What can I do for you, Adrien?" she sets down the hot croissants behind the vitrines and then lays both her elbows on the counter. She then rests her head on both her hands, still smiling brightly.

"Yeah, well, as you know, I just came back from practice, so I'm pretty hungry," I chuckle a little bit, my left hand rubbing the back of my neck.

She giggles and takes one croissant out. Cutting the bread in half, I watch as she carefully butters it up and covers one half in chocolate.

"On the house," she winks at me. I hesitate before taking the croissant. Taking a huge bite out of it makes my stomach shut up immediately. It's delicious. Not like anything I've ever tasted before. It's buttery, very buttery, but not salty enough to overpower the chocolate. It's overwhelming my taste buds and I take another bite. And another. And another. Until there's nothing left.

"Wow," she breathes out, "You... Were hungry."

My face heats up. She's right, I was so hungry that I forgot my manners. I smile awkwardly at her and thank her for the pastry. Shrugging, she cuts another croissant in half. She butters it up, like she did the first one, but instead of putting the chocolate in the middle, she drizzles it over the the pastry. I can't help but stare at she does so. She smiles shyly when she realizes that I'm staring at her.

She then takes out another bowl with a thick, red paste in it.

"It's white chocolate with a few drops of red food colorant," she explains as she drizzles it on top of the croissant, making some sort of braid of red and dark brown, "It's my favorite pastry. I call it the 'Ladybug'."

I smile at her.

"Why 'Ladybug'?" I then stare at the red and the dark brown, "I mean, apart from the obvious color scheme."

"Because I love ladybugs," she smiles, "They're like lucky charms. They're my favorite animals."

I smile at her passionate face. She seems to love ladybugs a whole lot. Marinette then turns to face me.

"What's your favorite animal?" she asks randomly. I take time to think as she nibbles on her croissant. She smiles in satisfaction while chewing her first bite. She then puts down the pastry and move on to the other. She butters it up and puts chocolate in the middle, just like she did mine. I wonder why she doesn't sell "Ladybugs". I see none in the vitrines.

"Cats," I reply to her initial question, "They're mysterious and silent, yet agile and cool. That's how I feel when I dance."

"Oh right!" she puts two croissants in the vitrines, "You dance! Hip-hop, right?"

I nod. She opens her mouth to talk before a loud, deep voice interrupts her.

"Marinette! Introduce me to your friend," a man with the same eyes as Marinette walks down the stairs. He's smiling warmly, the exact same smile as Marinette, the one who makes you want to smile back. I'm assuming that this is her father.

"Hey Dad," Marinette greets, waving, confirming my hypothesis, "This is Adrien, I met him at the dance studio."

Her dad walks towards me with squinted eyes before gasping ever so slightly. My eyebrow raises in confusion.

"Adrien? Adrien, as in son of Gabriel Agreste? Adrien, as in model in the 'Paris Daily' magazine?" he asks, his smile growing. Marinette gasps as well, as if realizing who I am. I hate it. I don't want to be known as 'the son of Gabriel Agreste'. I don't want to be known as a model for my father's magazine.

But instead of saying all this, I smile, and nod.

"Wow! It's an honor to meet you," the man shakes my hand. I shake it back firmly, just like my father taught me.


End file.
